Strawberries
by Dana E. Vassy
Summary: Scully reflects on a precious memory


Title: Strawberries  
Author: Dana E. Vassy  
Rating: PG  
Category: MSR  
Spoilers: Requiem (isn't everything?)  
Disclaimer: Chris,1013, Fox. I'll give them back unharmed,   
but only if you make them happy. Of course I can make   
threats, when are you ever going to read this??  
Feedback: I'm drawing the line for you - SEND IT!  
scullys_no_slut@viceprez.fsnet.co.uk  
Distribution: Yes to major archives and my usual hoarders.   
Anyone else, just ask.  
  
* * * * * * * * *   
Author's notes  
* * * * * * * * *  
Thank you to my mummy who bought me the most fabulous   
poetry books for Christmas. I rediscovered the brilliance   
of Edwin Morgan, particularly this poem, "Strawberries".   
Makes me proud to be British. And I just felt like making   
Scully's interior monologue verbose...  
  
  
"and I bent towards you  
sweet in that air  
in my arms  
abandoned like a child  
from your eager mouth  
the taste of strawberries  
in my memory  
lean back again  
let me love you"  
  
EDWIN MORGAN, "Strawberries"  
  
Ubiquitous happiness.  
  
Every moment in those precious months was unabashedly   
joyful. The monstrosities that brought us together had   
opted to cease their haunting of our lives, albeit   
temporarily.   
  
You were so content, more settled than I could ever have   
hoped for. The love we had finally admitted to each other   
was reasserted at every given opportunity.  
  
And all the while you were away, my love, our passion still   
consumed every waking moment. Everywhere I turned, a   
memory of you presented itself. Some induced the tears I   
was no longer ashamed to cry. Others provided a burst of   
happiness amongst the pain.  
  
Like the scene I envisage now. That quiet park, miles from   
civilisation. Just the two of us with a picnic basket. I   
wonder if you recall how you raced me from the car to our   
favourite spot, how I leapt onto your back to avoid defeat.   
You stopped then, awaiting my kiss. Instead I capitalised   
on your submission and ran on to victory.  
  
How many hours did we while away in that grove beneath the   
trees? Perhaps three, or more, but I lost count. You're   
the only person who can have that effect on me.  
  
Our picnic was meagre, barely sufficient to replenish the   
energy that had been spent the preceding night. Typical of   
your nature, your selections catered to the sweet tooth as   
opposed to nourishment. Incorrigible but utterly adorable.  
  
It was blissful to have you lying across my lap, the   
surrender only emphasising your trust. The tray of fresh   
strawberries was your favourite indulgence, and I did not   
resist the urge of feeding the contents to you. It   
heartened me to see the manner in which you sucked the ripe   
fruit so eagerly from my fingers. I brooked no attempt to   
share, since my treat was still contained in the basket.   
Until that day I had always rather disliked strawberries.   
  
As you finished your veritable feast, I felt my mothering   
instinct slide. I could not explain, then, why I had felt   
that way. But soon, I had been too preoccupied with   
kissing you to care.  
  
As I tasted the sweetness of the fruit on your stained   
lips, all at once it became my favourite sensation. I bent   
forward, feeling you straining your neck to meet my   
advances. Our tongues swirled languorously as I   
rediscovered the contours of your mouth, and revelled in   
the beauteous taste therein. That kiss, the mere thought   
of it, has kept me sane these past few months.  
  
Suddenly, I am aware of you staring at me. My trip down   
memory lane has occurred in the course of weekly grocery   
shopping. I almost forgot you had returned from your   
enforced absence. I'm still incredulous about your   
presence, treasuring even this part of banal domesticity.   
Then you observe the strawberries in my hand, and I could   
weep to see that they trigger the same memory in you.  
  
Wickedly, I draw one piece from its companions and offer it   
to you. I will pay for the fruit, but this moment cannot   
wait. With a nostalgic grin, you greedily dispose of my   
present. And then, you do what I shall never tire of: you   
kiss me. I wallow in that familiar feeling, not caring   
about our very public location.   
  
When you release me, you are very mindful of my swollen   
stomach. I dismiss the whispers of the prudish fellow   
shoppers that pass. I am in love; hopelessly in love. Now   
that you are with me once more, I only pray for the time   
and strength to enjoy it.  



End file.
